


extra credit: how Yuri Plisetsky survived abstinence only education

by Blownwish



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: 80s hs au, Anal Sex, Angst, Character Death, Frotting, Hand Jobs, JJ is an assistant football coach, M/M, Oral Sex, Otabek is a math teacher, Pliroy, Prostitution, Student-Teacher Relationship, abuse of a ford mustang, foster dad otabek, inapproporate relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-04-19 01:30:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14226165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blownwish/pseuds/Blownwish
Summary: Coach JJ Leroy claims you’ll have no regrets if you just say no to sex. Too bad he can’t say no to sophomore Yuri Plisetsky.[80s high school Pliroy au]





	extra credit: how Yuri Plisetsky survived abstinence only education

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Phayte](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phayte/gifts).



> HUGE thank you to Annabeth, who has put in just as many hours editing as I have writing. Her concrit, suggestions, and encouragement are priceless! 
> 
> Okay, so I’m using a setting I used before: Its 1989, Lee High in San Antonio. But this time JJ is Coach Leroy, Yuri’s health teacher, and Otabek was Yuri’s math teacher back when Yuri was a freshman (and is his strictly platonic father figure). So I’m lazy, I used the same old setting, but the characters have new(ish) roles. 
> 
> Also, this is some unrealistic shit. They didn’t teach abstinence only at Lee in 1989. Plus this stuff wouldn’t fly in Texas. No self respecting Texan would’ve let a Canadian coach football.

Yuri Plisetsky is ready to attack. Blood thunders in his ears. He balls up his fists and he can just _see_ himself taking that smug asshole, Coach Leroy, down to the floor. In his mind he’s already punching that ridiculously handsome face. Fucker, fucker, goddamn fucking _motherfucker_.

This asshole has his perfect ass perched on his teachers’ desk and he’s going on and on. Normally Yuri doesn’t listen to the words. He just watches his lips move and imagines them around his dick. Sometimes he stares at Coach Leroy’s crotch and estimates the size of his cock. He’s probably not cut. He’s probably huge. His hands are huge. But —

Yuri isn’t paying attention to that today. Today the things Coach Leroy is saying have Yuri’s undivided attention.

“I know lots of you feel pressure to have sex. But that’s normal. Everyone has urges. Thing is, society is so sexualized they even use it to sell cheeseburgers and soap. They make you think _everyone_ is having sex, and they also make you think people who aren’t having sex have a problem. But some people,” Coach Leroy shrugs, “well, lots of people wait.” Then he smiles and he winks like he’s selling cheeseburgers and soap now. “That’s the best way to avoid diseases and unplanned pregnancies, kids. And not only that. Here’s something nobody selling sex will tell you: people who save themselves before marriage are happier and healthier.”

Yuri wonders if he can make this smug Ken Doll’s head explode by sheer force of will.

“Any questions?”

Yuri doesn’t raise his hand or wait to be called on. He jumps to his feet. “Do you actually believe this abstinence-only crap?”

There are snorts and _oh my gods_ and a few people laugh. Yuri doesn’t care. And he doesn’t care if Coach Leroy tosses his hair back and smiles like some corny male model, either. No eye candy is going to make him deviate from this course. “Not only do I agree, but I practice what I preach.”

“So you’re a virgin.” Yuri smirks as the other kids gasp. _That’s so rude!_ someone hisses. “Hey! He’s the one who brought himself into this!” He glares at Coach Leroy again. He looks so remote, so untouchable, so _perfect_ in his pink button down and creased jeans and megawatt smile. Yuri itches to mess him up, to ruin him and make him eat his words. “You’re full of crap! I don’t wanna get married to some girl and have a bunch of babies! That sounds like hell on earth! I want to get laid! I want to have fun! Maybe you should be handing out rubbers and telling these cows about oral so they don’t make surprise crotch goblins. But no! You wanna be a self righteous prick! Well how self righteous are you gonna feel when one of us gets the clap? Or pregnant? Or AIDS? Huh?”

Yuri doesn’t expect logic or shame to make a dent in those dimples. Coach Leroy just bats those big blue eyes at him. “That’s some enthusiasm you got there. Ever think of the debate team?”

That’s when Leo pipes up. “Hey! How come Plisetsky gets away with that? Racist, man!”

Yuri flips de la Iglesia off behind his back and flops back in his chair. He wants to shove his dick in Coach Leroy’s smirking mouth as he strolls up to Yuri’s desk at the far corner of the room and drops a bunch of shitty handouts on his desk. “Help us out, Yuri?” Yuri could swear on a stack of this fucker’s Bibles that Coach Leroy deliberately tugs at the back of his jeans to draw attention to that ridiculous bubble butt while he walks away. _Chastity_ is plastered in big bold letters on the header of those stupid papers.

Fuck.

Yuri’s _shaking_. Coach Leroy is going to pay.

++

Mr Altin yawns when Yuri unloads the latest episode of Fear and Loathing in Lee High School on him. He takes off his glasses as Yuri does his stellar Coach Leroy impersonation, complete with the wink. He huffs on the lenses and cleans them with his tie when Yuri reenacts _the big speech_. He twirls them by the frame and stares at the ceiling when Yuri follows it all up with a frustrated _fuck_ and flops down in a chair. “Then he dismisses me with this bullshit about the debate team and makes me pass out his Christian propaganda.”

Mr Altin never takes his eyes off the ceiling. “He’s wrong.”

“No shit!”

Then he looks at Yuri. “You should be in drama.”

“Oh wow. So insightful. He supports Abstinence Only. Did you know that?” Yuri wants to eat Mr Altin’s sandwich as Mr Altin takes it out of his paper wrap, even if it’s bologna again. Mr Altin sees his face, pulls out a second sandwich - he always makes one for Yuri - with a side of deep sighing. “Thanks, man.”

“Don’t I always make you one?” He glares before he bites into his. Mr Altin can give all the dirty looks he likes, Yuri knows he’s cool. He’s been coming here ever since last year, when he took Mr Altin’s pre-Algebra class. No one else would sit with him in the cafeteria and he never filled out the free lunch papers, so what was the point of even going there when Mr A’s door was always open?

Yuri moans when he takes the first bite because he didn’t know how hungry he was. Mr Altin pushes a box of Triscuits across the desk and nods. “You eating at home or what?” How does Yuri explain that? He shrugs instead. “Listen, Coach Leroy is a good guy. Big heart, a little touched in the head, but he seriously cares. You know he put a food pantry in the basement and volunteers for tutoring without extra pay?”

“Well whoopty doo. I heard Hitler was a vegetarian.” Yuri tears open the box and starts demolishing those nasty crackers. “Why can’t you get Sonic or Burger King for lunch?”

Mr Altin puts an apple and a bottle of water in front of him. “Because it’s expensive, unhealthy, and it would take up most of my lunch period just to get that garbage.”

Yuri groans. “I’d eat Sonic tater tots every fucking day if I could. Tater tots and cherry limeades.”

“And you’d be sick.” Mr Altin says. “You’re taking Health, Plisetsky, with Coach Leroy’s lectures on food groups and hydration, right?”

Yuri scrunches his eyes up. “Asshole actually flexed his biceps and started ranting about his vegetarian body.”

Mr Altin mutters something like _dear lord_ under his breath and Yuri smiles. Mr A is cool as fuck. If he wasn’t around Yuri wouldn’t even bother coming to this fucked up school.

++

The electric company taped a cut off notice on the front door of his apartment. The water is paid by the landlord, so he’s still got that for one last glorious weekend. But Mr McCutchen’s already told him he’s going to be out by the first if the back rent isn’t paid in full. Yuri wads up the notice; unlocks the door and tosses his backpack on top of the sofa disguised as a trash pile.

McCutchen can bite his ass when he cleans this shithole out for the next renter. Fuck electricity. He’s got batteries in his Walkman and a lighter for candles and Camels, one of which he lights with gusto. He sure as fuck is going to enjoy this shit — he’s only got ten smokes left.

He opens windows he shut last month when he permanently forgot to take out the trash, because fuck shame. He needs to get just a little bit of his dying daylight. He plays his Walkman and pretends the batteries aren’t low, but the Violent Femmes sound like they’re on downers.

He’s only got two dollars in quarters to his name. Fuck.

He can’t get more batteries. Shit, maybe he an get a sixty-nine cent hot dog from the 711 and one last pack of smokes. Yuri flops on his stinking exposed mattress with a long, long sigh.

Grandpa would kick his ass for letting things get this bad. He’d chase him around with his damn shoe, like he did when he found a lighter in Yuri’s jeans, and pop him good with it. He scrunches up his face and growls in his best Grandpa voice: _”When I was ten years old in Soviet Russia I worked. I kept house. I slept on floor and was grateful!”_ What Yuri wouldn’t give for one good pop right now.

He has to do something. That’s when he sees the torn up T-shirt and middle school gym shorts draped over an open drawer. He takes a long drag off his Camel and holds it like a hit of weed.

Last week he had an idea that was more like a joke he used to pass the time while he finished off the last of Grandpa’s vodka. He imagined what a man would look for in a male prostitute and dressed like he was going to walk Cherry Street.

Maybe it isn’t such a joke now. Where’s he going to sleep next week? How is he going to _live?_

He puts the shit on. It looks okay with Leo’s combat boots. Fucker’s probably not getting them back. His shorts are tight and they’re riding up his ass, his T-shirt is sleeveless, torn at the chest and his nipples are poking out between the top rip. Yeah, he looks like a prostitute. Kind of. Maybe. Yuri takes out the mascara he bought last year behind Grandpa’s back at Walgreens. He’s never been good at this, he’s probably doing even worse with the fading light from the window, and the broken mirror in his room is so smudged he might as well do it without a mirror at all. But who cares? Yeah, he looks like a hooker, now.

He studies his reflection and decides no one cares. And if no one cares, why not walk out the door like this and see what happens? Two bucks is more than enough for a bus to the Southside. Yuri shoves his Camels in his pocket and doesn’t bother to lock the door on his way out.

++

He didn’t remember anything about Russia. He was a baby when his grandfather went to work in the Soviet embassy in Oslo. He was a toddler when he spirited himself and his grandson to the US embassy and pleaded for asylum. His mother remained at the Soviet embassy and so he remembered as much about her as he did Russia: nothing. All there was, was a photo Nikolai Plisetsky had brought in his wallet when he turned his back on his country.

“Tell me why we left?”

Nikolai Plisetsky had spent the good part of a week in this hospital bed, struggling to hold on to what little life he had left, at least until Yuri come of age, to what little breath he had left that the cigarettes didn’t steal away, and explained with a soft voice he never used before the lung cancer had eaten away at his lungs: “The Officer came to our apartment to tell us your father was slaughtered for the glory of the god damn Soviet Union. Not to protect our people from Nazis. Not to protect our children from slaughter. But for _glory_ And then that fat bastard…” he coughed and coughed. Yuri got him water and he still coughed as he waved the glass away. “He pointed to you, a baby in your mother’s arms, and said your time would come to serve for the glory of the fucking state!” His face turned red and Yuri was instantly sorry he asked. He knew the story. Grandpa repeated it like a nursery story, over and over.

But it was as close as he could get to this question: _Why didn’t my mother come with us?_ Maybe Grandpa never told her what he was going to do. Maybe she didn’t want Grandpa to take him from her.

He wondered if she would have taken him when the nurse told Yuri Grandpa was dead.

He asked the social worker with the tight bun and tighter lips if they would try to contact her. “The USSR is not on my rolodex, Mr Plisetsky. You’re a ward of the state.”

“No, I’ve been staying at a friend’s house. They go to my church.” He didn’t go to church or have friends. He didn’t want to go to foster care, either.

She narrowed her eyes and pushed her business card in his hand. “Have their parents contact me.” She didn’t apologize for his loss. She didn’t even offer him a meal.

He came home on the bus feeling like a ghost as living people ignored him. He stepped into the apartment with the sudden, horrible realization that Grandpa would never step through that door again. Yuri walked past the overflowing kitchen trash can, turned around and kicked it over. He drank from the vodka bottle on top of the refrigerator and drank all night while he watched Siouxsie Sioux and the Morrissey sing on 120 minutes as if the world hadn’t just been turned on its head.

He slept like the dead. And when he woke up, he wished he _was_ dead; dead like his grandfather, like his father, and like every other Plisetsky who ever walked this earth.

++

So who was the motherfucking asshole who decided every kid in this state had to take one _and a half_ credits of PE? If a kid was taking PE that meant they didn’t give a shit about playing any kind of sport offered in a high school. They don’t want to run laps, play basketball, football, volleyball, suckball, kiss-my-assball, I’m-going-to-stand-to-the-side-and-take-an-Fball because I-don’t-careball.

Yuri was feeling magnanimous when he, the Nimitz Middle School Grand Master of Unexcused Absences, opted not to skip PE his first day. He strolled into the locker room, ignored the assholes in his class popping in and out of the shower stalls, fully dressed, cracking drop the soap jokes and shit. This was pure goodwill on his part, goodwill he didn’t even know he had. It went away the second the PE teacher made the grand appearance nobody wanted.

First there was that deep, booming voice. “Good afternoon, gentlemen!” It shot out from behind and grabbed Yuri by the balls. Then this guy, this _man_ , a man who towered over all those puny ninth grade bitches. He had these piercing blue eyes and this face; the kind of face Yuri saw on actors and teeth so white they almost didn’t look real. He tried to focus on the teeth, tried hard, but his dick wanted him to look at the body busting out of that stupid red and white Lee Rebels tracksuit. This guy - this _man_ \- Yuri could actually see pecs popping out like a firm rack of tits and he would’ve bet his left nut (which Yuri was very close to) that this guy had a six pack. There was definitely bulge. Yuri forgot all about fucking Chiclet teeth and took note. And when this stack turned around? When he started writing his name on a chalkboard Yuri had no idea what to call him because that bubble butt was introducing itself.

Wow.

Yuri didn’t hear what this man had to say. It was something like, _just because I’m the assistant coach of deep thrusts doesn’t mean I expect you to join the team_ , and _feel free to come by the coach’s office if you’re interested in sucking dick for extra credit_ , but probably not. Yuri had popped a boner behind his oversized T-shirt so hard that he was hallucinating.

Somewhere between imagining Coach Fuck-me-Daddy teaching him how to deep throat and shifting his dick around at least half a dozen times, Yuri got caught. Not by any of the stupid assholes in his class. No, it was _him_. He was staring right at Yuri.

He didn’t say a word.

He didn’t have to.

He just _looked_ , and that look penetrated Yuri. It got deep inside and Yuri felt his dick throb and it was like this guy, this _man_ , willed it.

Then the coach cleared his throat. “Well alrighty then. And just a side note? I sponsor the the Lee High School chapter of Christian Athletes. Don’t have to be an athlete to join, don’t have to join to get an A in my class. Everyone’s welcome.” He looked at Yuri again and Yuri heard what was left unsaid: _no fags allowed_.

That’s when he checked out the name on the blackboard and decided this Coach Leroy motherfucker was the world’s biggest asshole.

Yuri still would’ve fucked him, though.

++

Cherry Street is broken concrete and trash, slow cars with more trash leering and sneering, scary women wearing makeup like warpaint in tube tops and micro minis, giving him the evil eye as he steps off the bus. He can barely breathe, hardly think as he walks, telling himself it isn’t too late.

He stops to light a Camel. Who is he kidding? He doesn’t have enough for the fare back home and the buses don’t run after ten. It’s almost nine. It takes less than a minute on the street for a wood panel station wagon to slow down for him.

“You take candy from strangers, sweetie?” A fat old man blows him a kiss. Yuri pretends the fucker was asking him for directions, asking what time it was, asking where his kids and his puppy and his mom are — but he still feels his stomach lurch because this guy is flicking his tongue at him.

He turns and walks the other way, almost running into a woman with a huge blonde wig and electric tape on her droopy tits. She _shoves_ him. “Fucking twink!”

The next one to slow down is a white van with an old man and a barking chihuahua. Yuri sucks hard on his smoke and wonders what Grandpa would say if he could see him now. Maybe he would’ve wished Yuri was dead In Afghanistan.

Probably.

Oh, fuck! What is going on? He’s only been here for a couple of minutes and a third car’s slowing down. He can feel the exhaust like hot breath on his legs. He cringes when the brakes squeak. He braces himself and he tells himself to suck it the fuck up: if these people weren’t disgusting they wouldn’t have to pay, so if he wants some cash he needs to stop being such a baby. It’s just sex, right?

_Right?_

“Hey, beautiful.”

He knows that voice like he knows his own dick. He jerks off thinking about that annoying voice. Yuri stops. He doesn’t need to look to know.

That red Mustang? He knows who’s driving it. He knows who stopped to pick up a skinny blond boy and it’s so fucking ironic because it’s Mr Abstinence, Coach Leroy.

++

He only ever came out to one person. It happened last year, and it was only because he thought there was a reason to tell him. “I think you wanna do me, Mr Altin. And I’m cool with it. That’s why you let me sit in here and eat all your food. Am I right?” It wasn’t just because he was attracted to Mr A. He was hot and all that, but more importantly Mr Altin felt safe, like someone he could trust to be his first. And Yuri sort of owed him for all the lunches.

Yuri would never forget how Mr Altin clasped his hands together, as if he was praying, and stared at him through those horn rimmed glasses. It felt like it took a million years for Mr Altin to respond; eons as Yuri wondered if he was going to be kicked out of this room, if he was going to be bent over this desk, not knowing exactly what would happen but very sure he had fucked up his one and only friendship.

“I’m going give a set of reasons for why you’re wrong.” God, he always sounded like a math teacher. Always spoke logically. Mr A gave Yuri one of his sandwiches. “First, you’re fifteen. Second, you’re my student. Third, I’m not gay.” He paused. “You’re not having sex with anyone in exchange for something, are you?”

He had a mouthful of peanut butter and jelly sticking to the roof of his mouth so he had to shake his head.

“Are you sexually active?”

He shook his head some more.

Mr A sat back. He had that worried look on his face. The same one he had whenever Yuri came to school without a jacket. “AIDS can happen to anyone, but you know gays are especially vulnerable. Promise me you will never have sex without a condom.”

“Look, I’m not having sex. Relax.” Yuri realized how stupid he sounded. After all, he was literally offering himself to his Pre-Algebra teacher. “I…” He remembered how his gut twisted. “You think I’m disgusting? Being a faggot?”

This was when Mr Altin elevated himself to Coolest Human Being Ever. “Being gay is about as disgusting as being straight, which isn’t saying much. But at least you won’t have unplanned pregnancies. Let me know if you need help getting condoms. I’m not condoning teenage sex, but you shouldn’t get a death sentence, either.”

Yuri blinked. “You’re like my dad or something.”

“So eat the celery sticks and don’t talk with your mouth full.”

++

Yuri savors every millisecond as panic lights up those big blue eyes. Everything that pushed him toward this situation feels almost worth it. Yuri knew it - he _knew it!_ This guy is so full of shit! And now he has proof! And even more than proof! Mr Superduper Christian, with his rearview mirror rosary beads and his Abstinence Only garbage, is a _faggot_ too, just like him. He can’t help but smile from ear to ear as he drops the Camel to the ground and leans into Coach Leroy’s window as if he’s done this a thousand times before.

“Hey, _Coach_. You looking for some action?”

Coach Leroy’s blush looks so good on him. “Yuri? Yuri Plisetsky?” And the way his voice breaks? Yuri loves that.

“The one and only. Tired of chastity, Coach? Need a good tight end?”

Coach Leroy swallows hard. He unlocks the door and refuses to look as Yuri slips inside and Coach hits the acceleration a little too hard and Yuri doesn’t even care. Yuri is about to turn his first trick with this mouthwatering, hypocritical piece of ass. He can’t fucking wait.

“I’m - this isn’t for sex!” He is driving toward the highway. “I mean, well, I wasn’t looking for sex. I’m trying to help my church rescue people.” They turn onto the highway ramp, and suddenly Cherry Street feels as far away as Mars and the city lights are like a galaxy of fallen stars. “I don’t - I’m not that way.”

Bullshit!

That lie gives Yuri this crazy supercharged energy. “Want me to suck your dick while you drive? I’ll do it.” He will. He wants to. Coach Leroy nearly swerves into a green Suburban when he gives Yuri a priceless horrified look. “I’ll suck you so good, Coach!” He reaches for the crotch under that stupid tracksuit, and —

“Stop that!” He swats Yuri’s hand away. “I am being serious, Yuri! I am not like those other people!” Is it possible for his face to get any redder? Coach shoves a tape into his Alpine and starts blasting _Where the Streets Have No Name_.

What a coward! Yuri lights a Camel. Coach rolls down his window, grabs it and tosses it out. “Hey!” He’s down to his last smoke! “You’re gonna buy me a carton for that!”

Coach pretends he can ignore him. He rests his elbow over the open car door window and starts mouthing Bono’s singing as they fly down the road. Whatever. He’s looking back at Yuri every once in a while, looking him over as if Yuri won’t notice.

“You taking me to a hotel?” Yuri has to shout. “Or your house? Where?”

Coach pushes the eject button. “Your apartment.”

“How do you even know I live in an apartment? And why?” He really wishes he had more smokes. Fucking asshole is trying to turn the tables on him. “I might live in Castle Hills for all you know.”

“The apartments across the street from Lee, right?” Coach glances at him. “You live there.” He says that last part so quietly the wind almost drowns it out. “With your grandfather, right?”

This makes Yuri feel something tight wind up in his chest and he’s hurting. “Fuck you.” He turns and stares through his window without seeing a thing.

“Worried?”

Yuri shakes his head. He’s not giving this asshole anything. “Grandpa doesn’t care what I do.” Not anymore. Suddenly he feels a hand on his knee. It’s big and warm and it’s squeezing him gently.

“I promise there’s nothing to worry about.” All of a sudden Yuri’s not sure he’s talking about Grandpa. Coach turns off the highway and the Mustang is ambling through a road cutting through shadowy hills. Are they going to the fucking zoo or something? Because this isn’t anywhere near Dellview. “It’s going to be okay.”

They’re turning into a dirt road and Yuri has to hold back this weird hysterical laugh that’s rising like a bubble in his chest. He knew this fucker was going to want something. He wants this fucker to do it, too — whatever it is. But still, he’s got no idea how to suck a dick and he’s never taken it up the ass.

Coach parks in a dark corner and cuts the engine. There is only the moonlight and the sound of cicadas.

Coach’s hand is still on his knee. His thumb strokes Yuri with long, slow swipes. “You want me to suck you off?”

There is no answer and it’s answer enough. Yuri leans toward him. This is it. Yuri takes a deep breath and feels soft satin over hard muscle - and a hand over his when Yuri reaches Coach’s hard cock.

“Wait. I don’t want you to do this. It’s not — it’s not right.” Whatever. Of course he’s going to say that. But it’s a lie. Everything he says is a lie. He isn't even pulling Yuri’s hand off.

His dick's hard and it is huge. Yuri shivers. He doesn’t know if he can actually do this. How is he going to get that all in his mouth? Fuck — he _has_ to do this. He can’t be a pussy. He rubs when Coach thrusts up a little. Groans and whispers _please_ and _no_ again and again. “You didn’t bring me here to talk about Jesus.”

There’s something in his hair; it’s Coach’s hand. “I just can’t — “ He’s panting now, like he’s run a mile. Good. Let him hate himself for wanting this. “It’s so wrong.”

Yuri pulls the pant elastic down enough for Coach’s dick to pop out and smack Yuri’s cheek. He gasps and looks up; Coach is biting his lip and he’s staring back down at him like he’s hurting, too.

Like he knows anything about hurting.

Yuri closes his eyes. He opens his mouth. And he feels the slightest push against the back of his head, as if Coach isn’t sure. Then another push, a harder push, and his mouth is crammed with cock. His jaw instantly aches and he starts sucking on it. “Yes!” Coach groans and it’s the best thing Yuri has heard in a long time. Coach tugs his head up, pushes it down and tugs again and Yuri gags when it hits the back of his throat. His eyes water and he tries to suck it more.

“Stop!”

No. He’s not giving up. This is supposed to make him come. This is supposed to put him in his place and make all his good Christian talk the trash it is. Just because his dick’s big doesn’t mean he’s impossible to get off.

But he’s being pulled off. Coach is muttering and he’s pushing Yuri back and he can’t do that. He’s supposed to be fucking his mouth. “What? You want it!”

Coach puts his hands on the steering wheel. He shakes his head. “You never did this before.”

“Whatever.” Yuri snorts at that. “Maybe it’s all part of my routine. Act like an innocent boy you’re corrupting or something.”

Then he turns to Yuri and there’s this weird gleam in his eye. _Unholy_ , he thinks. “Oh.” And the smile — Yuri almost whimpers when Coach Leroy smiles at him with that gleam. It’s like he’s been replaced by the big bad wolf in his Grandpa’s old Russian stories and he’s ready to eat him alive. “Come here, baby boy. Let me show you how it’s done.” Then he tugs at Yuri’s shorts.

Oh, god…

He yanks until Yuri lifts up his ass so Coach can pull them down and he does and he —

Oh, _god..._

Coach is suddenly there, right there, between his legs and his breath is hot and hot mouth — fuck, fuck, fuck! — so much hotter and so _good_. He doesn’t even realIze he grabbed Coach’s head until he’s twisting his hair and he’s going to pull it all out when Coach starts to move his head up and down and up and fucking back down and _growls_ when he looks up at Yuri. Then he pushes his finger in Yuri’s mouth. Pushes it in and out and there is heat, tight wet heat.

_Oh, god!_

Yuri comes and he sobs and Coach won’t stop. No, he goes faster and he swallows it all, swallows all of Yuri, all of him until Yuri thinks there’s nothing left of him but endless sobs.

Coach finally lets up. He sits back and watches Yuri shiver and shake and Yuri wonders what he’s thinking when he looks at him. He feels so small, so helpless, so naked. “You don’t just suck.” Coach touches Yuri’s lip. “You move your head. Use your hand if you can’t get it all in. Open your mouth.” He does, and Coach presses his tongue down with his thumb. “Use your tongue too. Think you can handle that?”

Yuri nods.

“Good boy.” That does something to Yuri, like a key turning a lock. He leans over, he bends his head and this time Coach guides him down with both hands on either side of his head. His cock tastes a little salty. “Suck when you pull up.” He does and he’s rewarded with a hiss and another _good boy_.

Yuri hasn’t been anyone’s good boy. He’s never heard anything like that. Not from Grandpa. Not from Mama. Not from anyone until now and he wonders why it should matter coming from this guy.

But only for a moment.

Yuri focuses. He grips the base. He moves up and down in a slow rhythm. “That’s it.” He's combing through Yuri’s hair now. Thrusting just a little into his mouth, gently. Everything is gentle, coaxing and slow. “Just a little more suction.” He hums, deep and low when Yuri obeys. “Just look at you go. Such a good, good boy.”

Yuri moans when Coach starts thrusting faster. He doesn’t care that his jaw aches. He doesn’t care about proving some point. He doesn’t care that he’s hungry. That he doesn’t know when he’s going to eat again or where he’s going to sleep next week or how he’s going to survive. None of that matters. All that matters is those two words spoken in that sweet, deep voice.

_”You’re my good, good boy now.”_

He doesn’t realize he’s crying until it happens, until Coach comes in his mouth like a shock that pushes him back and he wails like a baby as it plasters his face.

++

He never showered after PE. No one did. Some changed in the stalls at their own risk; assholes were known to turn on the tap. Like today.

Yuri shivered in his wet T-shirt, not because he was cold but because he was pissed. “I’m not telling you who did it,” he told Coach Leroy. He tried not to think about how scrawny and weak he looked to Coach Perfect Body of the Pure Soul. He tried to focus on his rage and on how he was going to get back at Leo for this, and how he hated Coach Leroy for making such a scene. Getting pranked was bad enough. Making him shriek like some _pansy_ made it all worse. Yuri made so much noise that Coach Leroy came rushing out of the office like some white knight. He scooped Yuri up and brought him into his office. Fuck! It was so humiliating! Then Coach Leroy made him turn around. Yuri could feel his stare all over his body.

“You weren’t hurt?”

“Of course not.” God, he felt so stupid.

Coach Leroy sat behind his desk. “You were threatened?” He looked _angry_. Yuri never saw him get angry before. He kept balling up his fists and grinding his teeth.

Yuri shook his head. “Get real. You know this happens to people all the time. It’s nothing personal.” Nothing was ever personal.

Coach Leroy stood up from his desk and knelt in front of Yuri. Yuri stared at the crucifix around his neck because he couldn’t look in his eyes. “That doesn’t make it any better.” Then he did something. He touched Yuri’s cheek. “Look at me.” His face felt like it was on fire. He couldn’t. “Look at me.” He tipped his chin up, and —

He was so close. So close that Yuri could see the grey flecks in his blue eyes. He thought he was going to drown in them. Yuri gasped for air.

“I’m going to find out who did this to you. I promise you nothing like this will happen again.”

Yuri blinked. “Why? It’s not like I’m the first person they’ve done this to.”

Coach Leroy went to a box in the corner of his office. “Here’s a shirt and I got some sweats.” He held out a red and white Lee High Rebels T-shirt, complete with that stupid Dixie flag in the front. Coach Leroy looked at him. At his chest. Shit, Yuri’s white T-shirt was stuck to his chest. “Small, right? Go ahead. Put it on.”

“In here?” Yuri’s face felt like it was going to melt off.

Coach Leroy shrugged. “No taps in the office."

The fucking asshole didn’t turn around while Yuri changed. He just stood there while Yuri stripped, probably judging him for being a skinny little punk ass. No one had seen him in his tighty whities before either, not even his grandpa. He couldn’t believe _this guy_ was seeing him like this. He couldn’t get this shit on fast enough. He felt like such a tool in this bullshit when he was done, but at least he was dressed. “Satisfied?”

Coach Leroy looked away. “Go on. Don’t worry about returning those. Got plenty.”

Yuri couldn’t get out of there fast enough.

++

Is he still a virgin? Yuri stares at the passing highway lights and the answer isn’t there. Is he going to eat? There is still no answer. Not in the lights or the moon and definitely not from Coach Leroy. He hasn’t said a word to Yuri.

“You owe me.” Yuri’s stomach growls and he thinks about his one last cigarette. “I don’t work for free.”

Coach Leroy licks his lips. Can he still taste come in his mouth? Because Yuri can. “How much do you need?”

He doesn't even know. “Fifty.” Yuri looks away when he frowns at him. “And a Big Mac. Plus a carton of Camel Lights.”

“I’m not buying cigarettes. Or McDonald’s.” His eyes are trained on the road as he turns off the highway. “Those things’ll kill you.”

They’ll kill him. Shit, Yuri just realizes — “Like AIDS?” He rubs his face and groans. “Fuck! We didn’t use rubbers!”

There’s a bump in the road, or maybe it’s his imagination. “I don’t have AIDS.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t know that. And if you’re picking up random fags for head you’re probably crawling with crabs and shit, too. Fuck!” Yuri rubs his eyes. “God, my life is shit!”

They pull up to the apartments, and (of course) Coach Leroy has to park in the spot right in front of Yuri’s ground level door. Awesome. “Ah, don’t worry about the change.” Coach Leroy’s got three twenties.

Yuri crams them in his pocket. “I’ll get the carton with that ten. Five more for the McDonald’s.”

Coach leans back and grins. The shadows can almost fool Yuri into thinking he’s a kid just like Yuri. “How much of that crap do you eat?”

Not enough! Yuri wants to tell him he’s literally starving, and it’s stupid. “You swallow come off gay streetwalkers and you’re lecturing me about my Big Mac. Classic.”

“What I did was wrong.” He’s staring at Yuri’s dark bedroom window. “If I didn’t do it the condoms wouldn’t even be an issue.”

“I should make you pay for my tests.” Yuri feels this sharp twist in his gut. “Fuck, can’t you just take me to the drive thru?”

“Don’t you have anything to eat at home?” Coach’s voice breaks.

He can’t tell him no matter how much Coach Leroy scrunches up his eyebrows for him. “Of course I do. I just wanted McDonald’s.” He shoves the car door open. “Don’t have to make such a big deal out of it.”

The Mustang’s headlights make it easy to pretend he needs his keys. He waves and he gets in and he goes to his room, where they light up his room. And they’re not pulling away. Yuri wonders if it’s a minute or ten, as he waits on his mattress.

What is his problem?

Yuri jumps and he charges toward the front door. Then he hears the engine cut. A car door slams and - shit shit _shit_ \- Yuri can hear his steps and what the _fuck_ is Coach Leroy doing?

The knock echoes. His heart slams. “Yuri?”

He can tell him to go away. He can say he’s got a gun. He can say he’s going to call the cops and tell them everything. But he just pretends he isn’t there.

Then the door opens. “Yuri?” There’s a little light from the exposed bulb in the walkway and it’s like looking into the sun.

He feels something on his face - he’s fucking crying. “Get out! I didn’t open the door on purpose!”

He’s closing the door and he actually curses. “Where’s the switch?” It’s pitch black. “Where’s your folks? _Good Lord, What is that smell?_ ”

“None of your business because you’re leaving.” Yuri wants to scream but the neighbors already hate him for starting that fire behind the dumpster last year when he was sneaking smokes.

Yuri can hear a soda can crackle underneath Coach’s feet. He’s coming closer. “You don’t have any power. And there’s no one here with you. Nothing to eat, either.”

He can’t pretend it’s not true. Yuri wipes his face and shrugs. “What’re you gonna do? Call a social worker? Wait til they find out how you know!”

“You’re coming with me. I won’t let you stay here.”

Thank god there’s no light. Coach can’t see how Yuri’s face crumples. He covers his mouth and screws up his eyes to push out the crying as quickly and quietly as possible because - fuck! Yuri thinks of his Grandpa. He thinks of him, cold and dead in the ground.

“Come on.” He doesn’t have the strength to pull away from the hand that finds his arm or resist it when it finds his. He lets Coach take him away from this place.

He opens the car door for Yuri. “Thank you,” Coach whispers this after Yuri slides in.

++

Grandpa didn’t have a lot of money, but what he did have, he spent on Yuri. They’d get clothes and tapes at Target, shoes at Payless, and he even got ten dollars a week if he did enough chores. Grandpa said he saved the rest in the bank for Yuri’s college.

Yuri tried to get the money a week after Grandpa died. “We need the account holder here to withdraw any funds.” The lady looked like a powdered donut with all that powder on her face. Would it make a little cloud if he slapped it and told her he was dead and there was hardly anything in the refrigerator to eat? “So bring Mr Pliz-sghetti here so he can give you his money, himself.”

He watched a young mother feed her baby a bottle on the bus ride home. He kept trying to cry and Yuri wondered why.

Then he went back home and sobbed like a baby on the sofa where Grandpa slept. The old man, he never complained about giving Yuri a room and only having two twenty-year-old suits that hung in the utility closet. But now there was so little left of him.

++

Yuri is standing in the middle of Coach’s living room, wondering if he’s going to sleep on that scratchy looking green couch as Coach Leroy burns something in the kitchen that smells suspiciously like eggs. “Not much of a cook,” he calls out. “Bear with me.”

He’s shivering and he’s kicking himself for not bringing anything to wear because this guy has his AC cranked up. There isn’t much to this place. He’s got a dinged up coffee table, a tv stand with a VCR and cable box, weights in the corner (of course this overgrown jock has weights), a brass crucifix hanging behind the tv and some pictures on the wall. Yuri steps up and gets a good look at one. There’s a bunch of kids that look a lot like Coach Leroy. He’s standing there with them, and there are two older people, obviously his parents, beaming. “This your family?”

“Yeah! They live up in Toronto.” Coach places a plate of eggs and toast, complete with a huge glass of milk, on the coffee table. “Come and get it!”

There’s a picture of a hockey team in red jerseys. Yuri can tell which one’s Coach Leroy. He looks a little younger, but that’s him, big shit-eating grin and all. “Wow. Surprise Canadian.”

“Not for much longer. Didn’t you say you were hungry?” He’s sitting on the couch and patting the empty space next to him. “Better than McDonald's.”

Why can’t Coach Leroy have an easy chair? Or a kitchen table? Grandpa always said kitchen tables were the most important piece of furniture after beds. He sits. “Better than nothing.”

No plate of burned eggs and toast ever got eaten so quickly. No milk was ever downed with this much speed. Yuri wants to lick the plate when Coach Leroy magically produces a banana. He snatches that. He crams it in his mouth and moans.

“You want more?”

Yuri moans some more because he’s shoving more banana in his face. God, he could eat a horse.

“Coming right up.” He jumps back into the kitchen and brings him a box of Triscuits. Yuri huffs. It’s like teachers are required to have those things or something. “Here!” He takes it anyway. “You like movies?” Coach bends over and opens the little cabinet under his tv where he’s got a row of video tapes.

“No. I hate movies.” What a stupid question.

A minute later Coach is sitting back on the couch as Die Hard rewinds. “You want more milk?”

“You got any soda?”

“Water, OJ, milk: choose your own adventure.” So fucking clever. Why can’t he be a hypocrite about food, too?

Yuri groans. “Not even Shasta? Never mind.” He shoves the Triscuits on the coffee table and lets out a loud, unholy burp. “I’m fine.”

“You cold?”

Yuri shouldn’t but there’s something that makes him look at Coach and Yuri suddenly feels self-conscious about the shredded shirt and tight shorts because Coach isn’t looking him in the eye. He’s looking at his body. “You got something I can wear?”

He clears his throat. “Ah, sure thing.” He must love getting up because he’s doing it again. This time he goes down that little hallway and opens a door. Yuri can hear his voice, he’s saying something like, _You can keep these too_ , and he comes out with the hockey jersey Coach was wearing in that picture, along with some grey sweats. “This okay?”

“Do you even _have_ normal clothes?”

He shrugs. “You wanna change in the bathroom?” Coach looks at the floor, the ceiling, anything but him.

Yuri yanks the shirt out of his hand and pulls it over his head. It’s big, fucking huge, it goes down to his fucking knees. He shimmies out of the shorts underneath and steps into the sweats.

“I guess not.”

Once they’re back on the sofa and watching Die Hard, Yuri is conscious of two things: Bruce Willis’ smoking is making him jones, and Coach Leroy is sitting way closer, Yuri glances over.

“Everything okay?” Coach is looking at him, not the movie. He’s sitting on his hands and his hands are squeezing the hell out of the cushion he’s sitting on.

Yuri nods.

Coach bites his lip. There’s sweat on his forehead. “You sure?”

Yuri nods again. “You?”

He nods, too. “Look, um, you’re not — I could tell you never did anything with another person. And I just wanted you to know that what I did,” He looks at the tv, “you can’t let anyone else do that to you. Okay?”

God, he could really tell, back there in the car. “Anyone _else?_ ” Yuri fingers the hem of the jersey.

“That came out wrong.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I want to protect you.“ He’s clutching the crucifix around his neck, now. “No more Cherry Street. No more slum apartment.” His hand is shaking. “You stay here. Here with me. I’ll keep you safe.”

And he’s broken the necklace.

Yuri catches it before it falls to the floor and offers it back to him on his open palm. Coach cradles his hand instead. And he’s not looking at the cross. He’s looking at Yuri. “I promise I won’t touch you again.”

“You’re touching me now.” Yuri can’t help it. He has to say it. The movie drones in the background as Yuri stares into his eyes. And he’s lost in them, he can’t see anything else but those eyes as they get closer and Coach grabs his arms the world tips over. Suddenly Yuri is on his back and Coach is on top of him, pressing him down into the sofa.

“Don’t let me do this.” He’s begging Yuri and he’s touching Yuri, slipping his hands under Yuri’s elastic. “Don’t let me do this to you!” He cups him. Rubs him. And fuck, it feels good, like being fed, like being loved.

He wants Yuri and that’s the only thing Yuri has in this world anymore. “What’s your name?”

“Jean-Jacques. JJ.” He leans in and presses his forehead against his.

“Jeh Jeh.” Yuri hums. “I want you to touch me, Jeh Jeh.”

“Oh, god! What are you doing to me?” He tugs Yuri’s pants down. He slides down. And he looks up as Yuri watches. He never looks away. Not once.

++

Mr Altin didn’t like it when Yuri waited in the teacher’s parking lot near his motorcycle. “Don’t you have any friends your own age to hang out with?” He glared until Yuri put his unlit Camel back in the pack. Then he snapped his army helmet on.

So fucking _cool_.

“Just one ride, Mr A? Come on!” Yuri couldn’t believe he was making such a big deal out of this. It wasn’t like they’d get in an accident or anything. “Just one ride around the school?” Mr A went from being supernerd math teacher to badass leather jacket biker and Yuri wanted to change into something badass, too. Or at least know what it felt like.

He shoved Yuri back and mounted it, gunned the engine and refused to acknowledge Yuri when he roared with it. “Come o-o-o-n! Lemme RIDE!”

Yuri kept roaring as Mr Altin motored out of the parking lot. And he stopped when he noticed someone watching.

Coach Leroy was leaning against his car with his perfect fucking body, arms crossed, staring right at him. “What?” Yuri lit a cigarette. “Gonna bust me, Coach? Then do it!”

He tilted his head and the wind blew his hair back like a goddamn ad. His T-shirt was so tight Yuri could see his abs. “You need a ride?” Suddenly he was imagining himself in Coach Leroy’s car, enveloped in that Adidas cologne as Coach reached over with one long, muscular arm and pulled the seatbelt over Yuri’s body as he stared into his eyes. Fuck! “I’ll give you a ride if you need one. Wherever you need to go.” Then he looked Yuri over, making Yuri too aware of how skinny and small he must’ve looked in his oversize Target sweater and tight jeans.

If Jesus was real he wouldn’t torture Yuri with this shit. He took a long drag. “What? You gonna take me to church, Coach?”

“If that’s what you want.” His eyes narrowed. “Is that what you want?”

“You have no idea what I want.” Yuri put on his headphones and walked away. Fuck this place. He wished Grandpa had never brought him to this shithole.

++

Yuri grabs the cushions and tries to thrust up, but Coach - no _JJ_ \- is holding his hips down with his big hands as he sucks him off. God, his mouth! His eyes! Every time Yuri tries to look away, Coach touches his face and makes him look back at him. Makes him watch.

And it’s too much. Yuri can’t stop moaning. Can’t keep from coming and he _comes,_ so fast and so hard and it’s so good. “So, so, so fucking good!” He doesn’t even realize he’s saying this. All he knows is how Coach moans, too, when he swallows it.

“You like that?” Coach is back on top of him, pinning Yuri’s hands over his head. “You like letting a grown man do that to you?”

Yuri nods and tries to say yes, tries to breathe, but there’s no air, there’s nothing except him.

“You give me your body. You’d trust me with it. Make me have to trust you, too.” His hands slide under the jersey, under the T-shirt, over Yuri’s skin. “Baby boy, you have to promise me you’re not going to say anything.”

God, he feels so small when those big hands span across his chest. “Don’t be stupid. I told you I want this.” He tries to smile but it feels like he’s just gritting his teeth.

“You want my dick?” He presses Yuri’s hand on it, moves Yuri’s hand up and down over the satin that’s covering his hard on. “You wanna learn more?” Coach thrusts against his hand.

“Show me?”

He gets up and pulls Yuri off the sofa, then catches him when he sways. “Not here.” He picks him up and slings him over his shoulder like he weighs nothing. “Let me tuck you in.”

He lays Yuri down in an lamplit unmade bed, tosses a Sports Illustrated to the floor, tosses his tracksuit with it and his underwear, too. Yuri can’t stop staring. He’s like a god, every muscle perfectly defined, not one ounce of fat, and his cock is so big, so hard, so —

“God, the way you look in my bed…” Coach lies down next to him, touches his face, his neck, his mouth. “You okay with this?”

“Yeah.”

He’s settling between Yuri’s legs, framing Yuri’s face and looking through him. “You don’t have to do this to stay here. You can tell me to stop anytime. Do whatever.” Then Coach kisses his forehead. “Anything you want with me.”

Yuri can hear Bruce Willis say _yippy kay-yay motherfucker_ in the other room as he touches Coach’s shoulder. He’s firm and smooth and Yuri wants to bite into it. Wants to slide his tongue all over him. Coach sits up a little more. “Don’t be shy. I want you to touch me, too.” His lopsided smile - fuck! Yuri has to smile right back.

His skin is warm and his muscles bunch as he touches his arm, his abs, his pecs. His breath hitches when he makes a pass over his nipple. He does that again. “That’s good.” He bites his lip when Yuri does it a third time. And when Yuri reaches up with both hands to rub his thumbs against both nipples, Coach moans. “Good boy…”

Yuri feels tears choke in his throat and he lunges forward. He hides his face in that strong chest and he presses it there. Coach’s arms wrap around him, tight, as Yuri’s open, sobbing mouth finds a nipple and he doesn’t know what else to do but suck at it.

Coach falls back down into the bed and takes Yuri with him. Combs through his hair and lets him suck and palm his big, hard pecs, left to right, over and over, and Coach is talking to him the whole time. “That’s it, don’t be afraid to use your teeth, too. Yeah. Tug. You’re my hungry kitten, aren’t you? Yeah, suck all you want.”

Yuri’s getting hard again. God, how many times has he jerked off just thinking about Coach’s chest?

_”Good, good boy.”_

Coach pulls his leg up. Slides his palm down Yuri’s leg and squeezes his ass as he grinds his dick against Yuri. “My good, good boy. You like that, baby?” Yuri gasps when Coach takes both of their dicks in his hand and his hand scrambles up Coach’s arm as he jerks them off, together. As he watches Yuri with narrowed eyes. Coach rubs his ass with his other hand. He feels so little, Coach feels so big, and Yuri wonders how he can even like him. “Rock with me.” He thrusts again and Yuri does the same, sweat and the slick from their dicks and the tight, tight grip makes Yuri forget how little his dick is as they _move_. “Just like that!” His other hand keeps squeezing Yuri’s ass. “That’s my good boy.”

Yuri sobs again.

“You like it when I call you that.” Coach purrs into his ear with the hottest: _“My good, good boy!”_

He’s twisting and jerking and he reaches for Coach but his fingers slip on his skin and oh fuck he’s _crying_ \- oh, fuck! Coach wraps his arms around him and he keeps moving against him, clamps his hand on Yuri’s ass and it’s too much —

_“Ride it out for me, baby. You can do it.”_

Yuri moans as he clutches Coach’s back. He’s not letting Yuri go no matter how much Yuri’s hands slip. No matter how much Yuri jerks and arches back.

 _“Good, good boy!”_ Coach groans and thrusts one last time against him and they both fall down into the mattress, gasping.

Yuri stares over Coach’s shoulder at the popcorn ceiling. He’s so warm and Yuri never wants him to get up. He wants to wallow in the sweat and jizz and just pretend he can stay like this.

But he can’t. Yuri scrambles under the sheet when he gets up and hides while he walks away without a word. There’s a soft clinking in the kitchen. Must be getting a drink. God, he feels so weird, like a deflated balloon.

“Sit up!”

Yuri peeks. Coach Leroy’s wearing the sweats he lent Yuri. And he’s got two glasses of orange juice. Okay, he can sit up for juice. Yuri guzzles it down so fast.

“Juice is the best after a good workout.” He grins like he’s talking in class. “You need the water and the sugars from the orange. Peps you back up!”

He hands it back over and flops back down.

“How’re you feeling?”

Yuri raises his fist. “Peppy!” And lets it fall back down.

Coach Leroy grabs his hand and yanks him back into sitting position. “Look at me.” God, why does it make Yuri cringe when he sees that worried look on his face? “Hey? Are you - are you okay?”

“I’m tired.” Yuri wonders if he can put his head on his shoulder. So he does, and Coach Leroy hesitates a little before he puts his arm around him.

“You can have the bed to yourself.” His voice is a whisper. “I’ll get you some fresh sheets. I think I have fresh sheets…”

Yuri shakes his head. “Please stay with me.” He lifts his head. He feels Coach’s breath on his cheek.

Then his lips. “Okay.” He cups Yuri’s face. His eyes are so blue and his eyes are so grey as he kisses Yuri on the lips. Once, twice, and again, gently, so gently.

Coach turns off the light and they lie down in bed. They keep kissing in the dark, tongues barely touching, breath mingling, sighs shared. They kiss until Yuri is dreaming.

++

Going to school in a taxi is weird enough. Showing up in Coach Leroy’s huge sweats, all bunched up around his ankles, and oversized Lee High T-shirt is even weirder. He even smells like Coach, right down to the cologne Yuri rubbed on his neck before he left the apartment.

 _Be careful in the taxi,_ Coach had told him as he was shaking this morning. _Perverts._ He was wearing nothing but a towel around his hips.

Yuri hugs himself as he remembers how Coach took care of him this weekend. Fed him steak Saturday night, then took him to bed and ate Yuri’s ass. He didn’t even know people _did_ that. And then he took him to Mass early the next day, dressed in a pair of his old Dockers and a turtleneck. He sat next to him in rolled up sleeves and cuffed pants, not bothering to kneel and stand and sit because he couldn’t get it right anyway. Coach didn’t mind. He brought Yuri home and gave him a never-ending blowjob on the sofa, slowing down whenever Yuri was about to come. And then he made him another steak. _Unless you want more eggs?_

Yuri sighs as he pushes open the door to gym room #6. He hasn’t seen Coach in three hours and it feels like forever. He tries not to look at him too much because there are other kids coming in with him. But he sees the way Coach looks down at his papers and smiles.

_I’ll put a star on the blackboard. That’ll be how I say hello._

Yuri sees it, right under the flag.

Leo slides into the desk next to his. “Nice clothes, commie. What’d you do? Raid your boyfriend’s closet?”

“Fuck off, skate poser. You bought your board as an accessory.” Yuri flips him the bird.

“Leo?” Coach is standing right next to his desk. “Get out of my classroom.” His voice is low.

Yuri turns bright red as Leo slams his own book to the floor. Everyone is staring as Leo points right at them and yells. “You heard what he said to me, Coach? And you still kick me out?!”

“Now.” He doesn’t raise his voice. But his fist is balled up. “Office. _Go_.”

Yuri wants to slide to the floor and disappear as Coach passes the hand outs. It’s shit about avoiding AIDS and STDs — _with abstinence!_

Coach Leroy turns around and smiles. “Abstinence has a hundred percent success rate when it comes to avoiding disease. Let’s talk about some of the diseases you won’t be getting if you don’t have sexual contact.”

Fuck.

++

“So I had sex, kind of, with this guy.” Yuri squirms when Mr Altin leans forward in his desk. “And I need rubbers.”

“You _had sex_.” He passes Yuri a peanut butter sandwich. “As in, you had unprotected sex.”

Yuri thinks he’s going to squirm his way all the way off the seat. “Not up the ass. I don’t think I can get AIDS if I do the other stuff. I mean, can I?”

Mr Altin pushes up his glasses. “A small cut in your mouth? On your skin? It doesn’t take much to be exposed. There’s herpes too. Doesn’t kill but it doesn’t go away.”

Yuri suddenly doesn’t feel like eating. It’s not like he’s starving, anyway. Coach made him a giant cheese omelet for breakfast with toast and orange juice. Then he gave Yuri a granola bar for later. Mr Altin notices Yuri push the sandwich back.

“That’s new. You’re usually ravenous on Mondays.”

“Grandpa got food stamps.” Yuri looks away.

“That means you get free lunch now.”

Fuck. Yuri bites the inside of his cheek. “Oh. Congrats!”

“My HEB receipts just got smaller.” Mr Altin holds up the cup from his coffee thermos and sips. “You need a ride to Planned Parenthood?”

“Just in case I need an abortion?”

“Free testing.” Mr Altin leans back and folds his hands on his lap the way he does when he’s about to lecture a kid over their grades. “Tell me about this kid. Anyone I know?” Yuri shakes his head too fast. “What school does he go to?”

“Jefferson.”

“Wow. Where’d you meet?” He tilts his head to the side. “Are those his clothes?” He nods at the T-shirt. “Kinda odd. Why does a kid from Jefferson have a Lee High t-shirt?”

“He went here last year!” Yuri groans. Mr A knows he’s lying. “What are you? My dad?”

He isn’t fazed. “And he’s feeding you?”

“Yes! _No!_ ” Yuri wants to scream. “When I stayed over, sure. He has plenty of food.”

Mr Altin’s mouth is a long, grim line. “Yuri, I’m not going to judge you. You know that. But if this is someone who’s taking advantage —“

Yuri jumps up. “Maybe I’m taking advantage of _him!_ Did you ever think of that?!” He grabs his books and turns around.

“You forgot your backpack,” says Mr Altin with the same passion he used when he explained distribution. Yuri stops in his tracks. “Whoever this is, if they hurt you in any way - ”

“He won’t!” Yuri runs out the door and _right into Coach._ He frowns when he sees Yuri’s face; looks at Mr Altin’s door and narrows his eyes.

++

Yuri is standing on the balcony smoking a cigarette while Coach is inside rattling off in loud, nonstop French. He’s going to catch on as soon as he looks out the sliding glass door, so Yuri hot boxes the shit out of his Camel.

God, what the hell does he even have to talk about for so long? It sure as hell isn’t Yuri.

He leans over the balcony and lets the late spring breeze stir his hair and tug at the hockey jersey as if it wants to know if he’s wearing anything underneath.

“Hey."

Yuri jumps and he yelps and he drops his cigarette. “Fuck you, asshole! You scared me!”

Coach picks up the butt and grinds it out against the iron rail. Then he drops it in the empty flower pot that seems to reside there for no reason. “Where are the rest?”

“Not saying.” Yuri puts his hands on his hips. “Was that your mom and dad?”

He nods. “Yeah. I always call them on Mondays. MCI has a special international call discount when you use the card. Are the cigarettes in the bedroom?”

Yes.

“No.” Yuri goes back inside. “Do your parents know you suck cock? Or is that why you’re here? So they won’t find out?”

“They’re in here and you’re going to give them to me.” His hands are on his hips. “One way or another. I’m not going to let you kill yourself with those things.”

“No.”

Coach touches the bend of Yuri’s elbow with one finger. Just one. Just once. It makes Yuri shiver. “I told Maman I met someone. Someone blond and beautiful. I wanted to tell her your name. Had to make one up.”

“What’s my made up girl name?” Yuri watches him lace their hands together.

“Isabella.”

He snorts. “Like that skinny chick with the bob who thinks she’s the 10,000 Maniacs singer?” She’s in Yuri’s English class and all she does is apply a shit ton of red lipstick all hour so she can make sure her teeth get an even coating.

Coach touches Yuri’s chin. “I’m not sure what’s right or wrong right now. It’s like everything is in this soft fog. Like a dream, you know?”

“So tell your mom Isabella is Yuri and sixteen.” Yuri laughs when Coach makes a face. “Yeah, thought so.”

“What about your folks? They abandoned you when they found out you were gay, didn’t they?” He touches Yuri’s cheek.

He takes a deep breath. “Grandpa is dead.” He laughs nervously. “He’s been dead for weeks and the social services lady still hasn’t come. Crazy, right?”

Coach catches his other hand and studies the two he’s holding. He says nothing. He just rubs the tops of Yuri’s knuckles. Then he kisses them. He kisses Yuri’s forehead. He goes to the coffee table and picks up his broken chain, places it in Yuri’s hand and kisses the knuckles again.

“What does this mean?”

Coach shakes his head as he swipes his thumb over Yuri’s cheeks. They’re wet. Shit — he didn’t even realize he was crying. “Shhh.” He picks Yuri up like he is fragile, settles him on to the sofa and holds him.

Yuri props his chin up on his shoulder. “Are we going to fuck around or something?”

“Shhh.” Coach begins to rock him back and forth like a baby, stroking Yuri’s back until the sobs come out. “It’s going to be okay,” Coach whispers in his ear. “I promise everything will be okay.”

Yuri wants to believe him. He wants to, so bad.

++

An office aide brings a message to Yuri’s third hour. Coach Leroy doesn’t like whatever he read. “Mr Altin wants you to see him today.” He places the pass on his teacher’s desk and taps it with his forefinger like it’s a button he can press off. “Must be important.” Then he glares at Leo when he snorts. “Today’s the Abstinence test. It’s real easy, your answer is always what?”

Yuri sits silently while everyone else responds: _No!_ Coach frowns at him. Apparently Coach doesn’t think it’s very funny. And he’s wrong — especially after last night. Yuri reaches in his pocket and grabs the necklace.

Yuri doesn’t know what to expect when he comes to Mr Altin’s room during his lunch break. Turns out Mr A bought Yuri some rubbers. He has them in a Walgreens bag, along with some spermicidal lube. “The condoms aren’t lubricated.” Yuri mentally thanks him for that. He doesn’t want to choke down spermicide flavored cock. That sounds like deepthroating a can of Raid.

“You didn’t have to do this, Mr A.” Mr Altin clicks his tongue when Yuri crushes the paper bag down and stuffs it in his sweats.

He’s looking at the orange UTSA Yuri’s wearing today. Mr Altin knows these aren’t Yuri’s clothes again. “No backpack. Still at your boyfriend's?”

“Uh, yeah.”

Mr Altin places his fingers on his desk. Just the tips. “It’s very expensive to take a taxi all the way to Lee and back every day. Good thing he lives in Alamo Heights, right?”

“Sure.” Yuri shrugs. “He’s rich.”

“Alamo Heights is nowhere near Jefferson High School.” He leans forward. “You’re lying. There is no boyfriend from Jefferson. You’re protecting someone, Yuri. Someone who isn’t protecting you. No.” Goddamn it! He puts his hand up before Yuri can even say anything! Not that he even knows what he’s going to say. How can he explain? “I’m not going to make you tell me because you’re just going to lie. But I’m here if you need to talk.” He tosses Yuri another paper bag.

A lunch. “Holy crap.” Yuri blinks.

“Mr Wonderful probably gives you lunch money, but just in case he doesn’t.”

Yuri eats the salami sandwich and apple silently as Mr Altin grades papers and eats his, too. Maybe he’s going to use the rubbers after they get tested. If Coach has something, Yuri’s already got it.

Especially after last night. He’s still sore but in a nice kind of way. It’s like Coach is still inside of him.

“Thanks Mr A.” Yuri tosses his trash in the metal waste paper basket near the door and turns around with a smile. “He gives me lunch money.” Two dollars before Coach left for work, yesterday and today. “I just never used the cafeteria before.”

“Make Mr Wonderful take you to Planned Parenthood so you can both get tested. And use the rubbers, no matter what the results say.” He writes something on a sticky pad, walks to the door and hands it to Yuri. “My home number, just in case Mr Wonderful stops being wonderful.”

Yuri crams that in his other pocket and leaves without saying another word.

He isn’t surprised when he sees Coach leaning against some lockers in the hallway. He’s got a clipboard and he looks like he’s going over some chart, but Yuri knows he’s waiting for him. And when Coach looks up, he’s frowning.

Yuri thinks about last night and everything it meant, everything he said. “He’s… he’s my friend.” Yuri wishes he could say more.

Coach pushes off and smiles at Yuri like he’s just another little punk ass kid. “Good to have friends, Yuri!” He turns and walks away, whistling _Don’t Worry, Be Happy._

Yuri reaches in his other pocket; the one he put the necklace in. He grabs the necklace and the phone number. His chest hurts. His throat hurts. He wants to run after him. He wants to bury his head in his chest, and feel his arms around him, and have him tell Yuri he’s not really mad.

He wants these things more than anything.

++

Last night Coach tried to keep it clean. He pulled Yuri’s hand away when Yuri tried to cup Coach through his clothes. “Just let me hold you.” He didn’t let Yuri kiss him; not on the neck, not on the lips, not even his cheek. “No, it’s wrong. Not when you’re like this.”

“It didn’t stop you before.” Yuri climbed on his lap and rubbed himself against him. God knew why Coach got turned on with his scrawny body, but he did, and Yuri was tired of this sad feeling that came whenever he thought for too long. He just wanted to feel good. Coach made him feel good. “I’ll tell you where the cigarettes are if you fuck me up the ass.”

“Don’t!” Coach groaned. “Yuri, you’ve been in pain all this time and I’ve been — “ He stopped when Yuri shut him up with his mouth. He groaned again, then he started kissing Yuri back.

They kissed like this was the last time they would ever kiss. Hands clutched, body pressed against body, and tongues and teeth and lips and spit and clothes — too many clothes were between them. Coach broke away to take the necklace carefully from Yuri’s hand and place it on the coffee table, then tore his jacket and shirt off. Yuri did the same and led Coach to the bedroom.

“You got something for lube?” Coach’s answer was to push him face down into the mattress, yank his pants down and — “Fuck!” — his tongue was right there. Oh, god! Coach growled and he grabbed Yuri’s ass to spread him wide and his tongue —

Oh fuck, his tongue! Yuri whined and he scooted his ass up as much as he could because that tongue was so good.

“So sweet!” Coach was jerking him off, too. Jerking and licking and squeezing. “Does that make you happy, baby?”

“I want more!” Yuri wanted it all.

Coach flipped him over and licked Yuri’s nipples while he kept touching him, stroking him. Then he sucked on his nipples, drawing them so deep into his mouth Yuri could feel it in his balls. They were puffy and bright red when they popped out of his mouth. He did this over and over until Yuri couldn’t stop wiggling and bucking into his hand.

“You’re going to have to get used to my fingers first. Get my Jergen’s.” Yuri passed him the bottle but Coach wanted him to pump a half dozen squirts on his fingers. “That’s it.” He kissed Yuri. “Good boy.”

“Oh, fuck.” Yuri could not open his legs fast enough.

“Look at that. You wanna learn how to fuck, baby?” The stuff felt a little cold when Coach tapped him with the tip of his finger, _right there_ , and Yuri wanted to back away. But he didn’t.

“Make me feel good, Jeh Jeh!” He held his breath when he started to push one finger in. He grabbed the sheets, grabbed Coach’s arm, and he let his breath out on a long gush when he curled his finger up and pushed some more. Heat shot through the base of Yuri’s cock. _”Coach!_ ”

“That’s it baby. You’re doing so, so good!” He kissed his calf so softly as he pushed another in and —

_”Co-o-o-oach!”_

It hurt and it felt good, so good, like he was already coming every time those fingers pressed up, up, up. “Feel that, baby boy?”

Yuri whined when he nodded.

“That’s where I’m going to be.” He guided Yuri’s hand to his huge, hard cock and made him stroke it with the foreskin, just like he taught him to. “Put some of that stuff on me.”

He could barely manage, barely hold the damn bottle because Coach kept finger-fucking him the whole time. But he did. He pumped two big white blobs of the stuff on the foreskin and head and worked it all over.

“Good boy!” Coach cupped his jaw and made Yuri look him in the eye. “You can tell me to stop whenever you want.”

“Please don’t stop.” Yuri wrapped his legs around him. “Please? Just whatever happens? Don’t give up.”

Something softened in Coach’s eyes and Yuri focused on that softness while he felt this searing, burning, aching _pain_. Yuri reached out and Coach took his hand, Coach let him squeeze his hand as hard as he could, squeeze as the pain pushed through him and then —

Yuri arched his back when Coach thrusted up.

“Yuri!” Coach moved slowly, stroked him firmly, and kissed him. He kissed him like he was precious. Like he was loved.

Yuri came when Coach pressed him down and fucked him with shallow, slow strokes as if Yuri would have broken underneath him.

Afterward, Coach brought the necklace back to the bedroom along with their two usual glasses of juice. “I want you to keep this.” Coach kissed his cheek. “I’ll get the link fixed and you can wear it.”

Yuri reached under the mattress and gave him his box of Camel Lights. “Nearly forgot, didn’t you?”

Coach broke what was left of his half pack and dumped them in his glass and pumped a ton of moisturizer on top. Then he got up, opened the window and threw it out. “Thank you.” He was smiling from ear to ear.

“Man, you are crazy.”

++

Yuri is smoking behind the apartment dumpsters, just like when he used to steal Grandpa’s Winston’s. Coach is going to be home from weight practice soon and Yuri’s going to stink like smoke.

He can’t help it though. He feels like he did when Grandpa used to get angry and yell at him for talking back at school. He’s tried to figure out how to explain how he feels about Mr Altin all day and the only thing that makes sense is to say Mr Altin is like an uncle or a big brother.

He lights one last smoke and wishes he had his Walkman. He misses his music, especially his Violent Femmes tape. He clenches the tiny cross coach gave him and hums to himself while he makes smoke signals.

Yuri nearly jumps out of his skin when a car pulls up, blocking him from getting out from behind the dumpster. Oh fuck, it’s a red car. A fucking Mustang.

Coach.

A car door slams as Yuri stomps the fucking smoke out, then kicks a perfectly new pack of Camels under the dumpster.

“Don’t bother.”

He turns and Coach is standing there, arms crossed, glaring at him. “I’m sorry! I was just stressing out and -“

“We need to talk.” Coach walks away and a moment later, he's revving up his Mustang like he's on a racetrack, before he pulls out.

He walks slowly up the staircase. He waits forever until he unlocks the door with the key he just got and will probably have to give back. And he stands outside even after he’s pushed the door open.

“Just get inside.”

Coach closes the door behind him. “So I’m busted.” Yuri tosses the Bic he forgot to trash on the coffee table. “I’m an addict.”

“Addiction.” He can’t look at Coach. “Is that what you want to call it? How many men have you wrapped around your pretty little finger like this?”

He clenches the cross in his pocket one more time. “Don’t say that,” he whispers. “Don’t say things like that. It’s not true.”

Coach grabs him, makes him look at the cold rage. “What’s Otabek Altin to you? How many others are there?”

Yuri can’t shove him away. He’s too big. Too strong. _Too much_. “There’s only been _you._ ” He has no proof. He has no reasons to make him believe it.

“What’s in your pockets? Presents from your boyfriend?” Coach yanks out the little bag and tears it open and stares at the Trojans and Astroglide.

“It’s for you. For us. We should be using them —“

The note is on the floor, big and yellow, printed side face up and so easy to read:

_555-6663 - Mr Altin call anytime I will pick up_

Coach picks it up. He presses it against Yuri’s chest like he can pin it there. And his voice is so cold. “Take your rubbers and your lube and your fucking lies to him.”

He let this guy pick him up off the street. He let this guy touch him. Fuck him. Feed him. _Love him_. And it was a mistake. Love isn’t for people like him. Yuri pulls the necklace out of his other pocket. He holds it up. “This belongs to you.”

He drops it on the carpet.

Coach doesn’t move.

Neither does Yuri.

“This...” Coach grinds his teeth. “This is how sin works. It makes you think up is down, black is white, wrong is right. That’s what happened between you and me.” He folds the note and tucks it in Yuri’s pocket. “You probably gave me a disease. It’ll match the sickness that made me want you.”

He’s going to cry later. He’s going to clutch his chest and scream into an empty space. Scream and fill it with all his rage and pain. But not now. He can’t. “Go to hell, you crazy fucking pervert.”

He doesn’t know how he manages to walk. It feels more like he’s floating when he leaves, as he comes down the staircase and glides through the parking lot. He looks up at the balcony. He knows Coach is watching him. He can _feel_ it.

“You think I made you sick, asshole? I’ll make you _really sick!_ ” He runs up to that fucking stupid red Mustang, that piece of shit wannabe Porsche, and he kicks a dent in the bumper. And another. Another. He rams his elbow on the hood. “I loved you!” He screams. “I loved you and this is what you get when I love you! This is what you get!” He grabs a brick. He pulls back and he aims for the windshield.

And he stops.

All he can think about is how bad he wants someone to hold him and tell him everything is going to be okay. Not just someone. No. Just one person.

_“I loved you!”_

It flies out of his hand and a million pieces of glass are shimmering in the sunshine. When they settle there is nothing left for Yuri to do but run away.

++

The first thing Mr Altin did after he picked Yuri up, in a white Corolla Yuri didn’t know he had, from the 711 was take him to his old apartment. He carefully read the eviction notice on the door. He helped Yuri gather up a few clothes in a trash bag, find his Walkman and some tapes in the trash pile next to his old mattress, and slung Yuri’s backpack over his shoulder right before they left. The second thing he did was take him to the Sonic drive in and order two number ones with mustard, tater tots and cherry vanilla Dr Peppers. The third thing he did was ask him where his grandfather was. And when Yuri told him the truth, he nodded.

“That explains a lot.”

Yuri sits on the cot in the room Mr Altin said he could use. Mr Altin is going to take him to Target after he's done talking on the phone. But for now Yuri is just staring at the wood panel wall in front of him. There’s nothing hanging on it. There’s nothing in this room except the cot, a big desk and wooden chair, Yuri, and all the things he doesn’t want to think about.

Mr Altin leans up against the door. “We are going to social services tomorrow to file some paperwork.” No. _No!_

“You’re going to put me in fucking foster care?” Yuri jumps up.

Mr Altin puts his hand up. “Calm down. You’re not going anywhere. I’m going to file to become your guardian.” He crosses his arms. “What do you say?”

Yuri's never hugged Mr Altin before. But when he does, every tear he’s held inside since Coach broke his heart comes out. And he doesn’t mind when Mr Altin awkwardly pats his back. Not at all. “Thank you, Mr A!”

“Might as well call me Otabek since you’re ruining my shirt.” He pushes up his glasses and hands Yuri a linen handkerchief from his pocket. “Mr A sounds like Mr Asshole, anyway.”

++

School feels different when he comes back on Thursday. Yuri has fresh new clothes that smell like Tide and he’s got brand new folders and pens even though school is almost out for summer. He’s also got cereal in his stomach and a brown bag lunch in his backpack. It should be enough to make Yuri feel something like secure.

Except he doesn’t.

He’s spent the last two nights jerking off in that rickety old cot, clutching the T-shirt and sweats Coach gave him, the clothes he was wearing that day. He’s been sobbing _Coach Coach Coach_ into them, replaying everything they had done together in his head and coming when he remembered what Yuri was to him: _My good, good boy_.

It’s already third hour. Time feels like it’s been out in fast forward just to force Yuri to sit in this classroom. He can’t skip. It would be disrespectful to Mr Altin.

“What’s your problem, man?” Leo pushes past him. “You’re in the way, commie fag.” Yuri looks inside.

He’s right there. The suit, it’s the same red tracksuit he wore the day - the _night_ \- he picked Yuri up on Cherry Street. Yuri thinks his face is just as red because Coach is looking at him.

God, _Coach_... He looks so good. The sunshine coming through the windows makes his tan glow and his eyes even bluer. Yuri is staring into them. Yuri’s missed him. Yuri’s needed him. He needs him now! It’s hurt so bad, like this hole inside.

It’s so pathetic, how weak Yuri is. He wants to say he’s sorry about the car — and thank you for not reporting him for busting up that car. That he’s sorry about the smoking. And, most pathetic of all, Yuri’s even willing to ditch Mr Altin, even though he did all this cool shit for him, if Coach would take him back.

“Take a seat.” Coach turns to the chalkboard and adds, “Class.”

There’s no star under the flag. There’s no word after the bell rings. Just the sound of chalk tapping. It’s a class assignment:

_Essay on Regret_

Mich Celestino, that asshole track team rich kid, sighs. “Are you for real? S’like English or something, Coach Leroy. _Dang!_ ”

Coach looks at everyone but Yuri when he speaks, and he sounds like a fucking fake ass game show host. “If I taught you people anything this semester, it’s that not taking care of yourself is something you will regret. You don’t eat right, you don’t exercise, you do drugs, you drink, smoke,” he pauses, “ _sleep around_ , you’re going to regret it. It’s going to hurt you.”

Yuri wishes he could disappear. He wants to throw himself out of a window. Throw himself into traffic. He wants Coach to see it, he wants Coach to run to his broken body and cry for him, tell him he’s so sorry and how he was wrong about everything, about Yuri -- especially Yuri. He wants Coach to hurt, too.

He takes out a piece of fresh college ruled paper from the pack Mr A - _Otabek_ \- bought yesterday. He uses the blue ink Bic they got in a three pack to write his name, grade, and hour on the upper right hand corner.

Regret, huh? Fucking douche! He’s not even subtle.

Yuri watches Coach, sitting at his desk, willing him to look up from that clipboard. But he won’t. God, he really hates Yuri. He really, really does.

God, it hurts. God...

Yuri can only think of one thing to write. One sentence. It’s very short.

He doesn’t put it on his desk when the bell rings. An essay is five paragraphs, at least three good sentences per. Yuri’s going to get an F anyway, so he tosses it in the wastepaper bin.

And like a pathetic loser, he hangs around in the hallway as people curse and bump into him while he just stands there, watching Coach get up and pick Yuri’s paper out of the trash. He wants to see him read those five little words: _I regret taking your classes_.

When Coach looks up, when he sees Yuri through the crowd of kids, Yuri feels it like he’s being hit by a car. Coach’s eyes — there is this hurt look in his eyes.

Yuri puts his hand over his mouth and walks. It doesn’t feel good. It doesn’t feel fucking good at all.

++

Yuri has a clean bill of health. He doesn’t have any trace of HIV, no clap, no herpes. The skinny lady with big eyes at the clinic said he was lucky and gave him a big box of candy-flavored condoms. Otabek rolled his eyes at that. He also made Yuri keep two in his new wallet. “Don’t let me catch you without them.”

Yuri’s been wondering how much Otabek knows. Yuri hasn’t said a word during their lunches in his classroom about Coach and Otabek doesn’t ever ask.

He wishes he could, because third hour is killing him. Sitting in that room, for fifty-five minutes five days a week, is torture. Not because Coach is ignoring him. No, he wishes Coach was ignoring him. It’s worse. Coach is treating him like nothing ever happened. He smiles at Yuri like he’s just another student. He looks at Yuri like he’s never seen him naked. He calls on Yuri as if they never touched each other.

And the necklace is hanging around Coach’s neck again.

“Got some news.” Otabek shrugs like this is mildly interesting. “Your favorite teacher is leaving. Coach Leroy says he’s moving back up to Toronto.”

Yuri thinks he’s going to puke up his bologna.

“Curb your enthusiasm. Don’t jump up and down too much.” Otabek chuckles at him. “He’s getting married.”

He feels so small. So worthless. “What woman would want him?”

Later that evening, while Yuri waters the bushes in Otabek’s front yard, he sees a red Mustang driving down Craigmont. Mr Tuck, the Lee High Latin teacher who lived two doors down, waves at the driver.

Yuri drops the hose. _”Coach..._ ” He stands there, like a statue underneath Otabek’s mesquite tree as Coach drives by. And he sees Yuri. He _sees_ him.

And the look in his eyes…

Yuri clutches his gut. Coach is looking at him like he could eat him alive.

Later that night, he comes so hard in his cot, ramming two spit-wet fingers deep inside. “I’m your good boy, Coach. I’m your good, good boy.”

++

The last thing he expects in fourth hour World History is an office aide delivering Mr Logan a request for Yuri to go to Coach Leroy’s office. He thinks it’s a dream, that he’s going to wake up at any minute, as he clutches the pass in his hand and walks down the hall. As he steps into the locker room. As he reaches the office with the pulled blinds and the big “L” on the windows. As he hesitates to tap on the office door.

Then it opens. And he’s there. He’s right there, and he’s looking at Yuri like he can’t believe it’s happening either. “Hey.” Coach’s lip trembles. Coach reaches for him.

And he pulls Yuri inside and closes the door.

It’s dark and it’s cluttered - something clatters to the floor - as Coach pushes him up against the door. “Oh, Yuri!” And he kisses Yuri. He kisses him like he’s going to die if he stops, moaning when Yuri opens his mouth, and devours him. Coach’s hands are all over his body, sliding under his shirt until he breaks the kiss to pull it off so he can suck a nipple deep into his mouth.

Yuri sobs.

He wants Yuri. He still wants Yuri. He’s pulling Yuri’s acid washed jeans down and he’s touching him; his hands tremble as he cups him. “Oh, god, I missed you!”

“I missed you, too!”

Coach slides down and Yuri can feel his breath against his thigh. Then his mouth. Oh, fuck! Yuri grabs his hair. “I’m sorry!” He’s so sorry.

“I can’t not do this.” Coach pulls down his boxers. “I shouldn’t. But I can’t help it.” He takes one long, slow lick and moans. “I know it’s wrong but I love you.”

 _He loves him_. Yuri comes so fast and so hard that his knees buckle. But Coach keeps him up, he holds him there until he’s swallowed the last drop. Then he lets Yuri fall into his strong arms.

He loves him.

They stay there for a long time, catching their breath on the floor, in the dark, as Coach kisses his neck, his cheeks, his eyes. Yuri wishes he could stay this way. He wants to stay this way.

But Coach is leaving. Coach is getting married.

“I have something to tell you,” whispers Coach. “I tested clean. Meant to tell you a minute ago.”

Yuri snorts. “Is that why you sent for me?”

Coach kisses his lips. “That was the idea. The rest just happened.” He angles Yuri’s head to the side and combs his hair aside. Then he kisses Yuri’s ear. “God forgive me, but I really must be crazy, because I really do think I’m in love with you.”

Yuri has to say this. “You’re getting married.”

“Made it up. I was mad at you about Altin and the car.”

Yuri has to say this, too. “You’re leaving.”

“Come with me.” He bites Yuri’s ear. “Altin can’t take care of you like I can. I’ll adopt you. You’ll be mine and I’ll take care of you forever. Even if it means I’m going to hell. I can’t take this anymore!”

Yuri can’t believe this. He can’t believe any of this. It must be a dream. “He’s not my boyfriend. He’s just a nice person.” He kisses Coach’s cheek. “Why do you think I fucked up your stupid car?”

He’s quiet for a moment. Then he shudders. “I want to believe you.”

“Then believe this: I’ll go to Canada with you, stupid.”

Coach clutches his face. “Do you mean it?”

Yuri nods. “I’ll go to fucking hell with you if I have to. I love you so much - “ He’s cut off with a deep, wet kiss.

“Put out your hand.” Coach takes it before Yuri can offer it. And he puts something in it. “Wear it for me.” It’s the necklace.

Yuri’s heart feels like it’s going to explode. “I’ll never take it off.”

“Good boy.”

++

Otabek was doing so much paperwork to become a foster parent, even taking parenting classes once a week at San Antonio Community College. Plus Otabek put in so much effort to do little things, like cook casseroles and make salads they ate at the little dinner table in his kitchen, or going through Yuri’s schoolwork and helping him with algebra after they did the dishes. He doesn’t let Yuri smoke and gives him packs of mint gum that somehow work. Yuri hasn’t had one cigarette since he moved in. He’s been driving Yuri to Lee every morning, even though it’s within walking distance of the house. Not on the motorcycle, though. No way. No model foster dad does that.

What would he do if he knew what Yuri did when he went for a walk? If he knew Yuri went across the railroad tracks around the corner and got into Coach’s Mustang, and Coach drove him to his apartment where they packed as much fucking as they could into an hour?

Yuri waits at the door, watching Otabek look through his notebook. He’s about to leave for his night class and Yuri is going to call Coach the second he’s gone. He can’t wait for him to leave and it’s not a nice feeling.

Yuri’s such an asshole. Otabek’s doing so much for him. “Can I ask you something?”

Otabek looks over the rim of his glasses. “What’s up?”

“What if, say, I disappeared?” Yuri leans against the sink. “Like, one day I vanish. Would you call the cops?”

Otabek takes off his glasses. Takes a deep breath. “You need to tell me something, Yuri?”

Yes. He shrugs. “What if Mr Wonderful, well, what if Mr Wonderful is back?”

Otabek purses his lips. He sits down at the kitchen table, tents his fingers and says, “Mr Wonderful is an adult?”

“Yes.”

“Are we talking eighteen? Twenties?” He glances. “Thirties?”

“Twenties.” Yuri swallows.

Otabek rubs at his mouth. “My parents, they were old fashioned. Very Kazakh.” He points to the other chair. Yuri immediately sits. “Papa used to tell us about the traditions. Man comes to his girlfriend’s house in the middle of the night and ‘kidnaps’ her. He said it was romantic.” Otabek shakes his head. “I never thought much of all that sneaking around. A man should at least look a father in the eye before he takes his child away. You understand me?”

“You — you want my boyfriend to come to the door before I run away with him?” Yuri’s voice must’ve gone up an octave.

“I didn’t say that. But a man, a real man, he doesn’t sneak around. Think about it.” Otabek pops his neck. “Now, if you will excuse me? I’m not going to be late for class.”

++

Yuri never tells Coach about that conversation. He never tells Coach anything about Otabek because he doesn’t even want to think about Otabek when he's with Coach.

Oh, fuck! When he was with Coach! Yuri lives for the moments he can see him in class and kiss the cross around his neck when Coach draws a heart under the flag. And those secret drives to Coach’s apartment, where he’s already packed up what he can’t take in his Mustang. They fuck next to boxes marked in French and English. Yuri’s drawn his own hearts on them.

But he’s never told Coach about how crummy he feels when he sits at the dinner table, eating the meals Otabek cooks for him. He never mentions how great Otabek is about wrapping up all the loose ends that were left when Grandpa died. How he made sure to put the three thousand dollars Grandpa saved in a trust for his college. And how he persuaded the landlord from his old apartment not to dump everything on the curb until they were able to look through the trash and find what few family photos there were. Otabek even hung them in the study he had converted into a real bedroom, complete with a twin bed and chest of drawers for his clothes.

How could he tell Coach about how great Otabek was when Coach had said all that about Otabek? When Coach was talking about adopting Yuri, himself?

But the end of school is rolling toward him like a tidal wave. Yuri knows it will crash into this strange new world he’s living in and destroy everything.

And so, on the last day of school, he walks home knowing what tomorrow means. Coach will be coming for him tomorrow night. He climbs up the cement ditch one last time and watches the skaters pop ollies for the skate betties. He was never friends with any of them, even though he’s known their names for years. He’s not going to miss those assholes.

He’s going to miss Otabek. And as fucked up as Texas is, he’s going to miss this place, too. He grew up here.

++

Yuri’s waiting at his window, jumping up every time a pair of headlights ambles down the street. He’s been waiting since nine, and he’s pretty sure Otabek thinks he’s up to something, because he always stays up to watch 120 minutes on MTV. Pretty soon his worst suspicions are going to be confirmed.

A set of headlights pulls up, _in the driveway_. “Fuck!” Yuri opens his window and shoves out a trash bag full of clothes. Why didn’t he stay on the curb?

And why is he getting out of the car? _Fuck fuck fuck fuck!_ Yuri pokes his head out of the window as Coach walks up to the front door. “What are you doing?”

Oh, no. Hell no! Yuri bursts out of his room. Otabek is sitting in his recliner with a book. “Yuri?”

There’s a knock.

“I’ll get it!” He scrambles to the door in a panic. Coach is standing there with a blank look on his face. “What the fuck, man! He’s going to see you!” Yuri tries to close the door behind him.

But Coach pushes it back. He keeps it open. “That’s the idea.”

“Jean?”

Yuri turns and Otabek’s standing there, clenching his teeth, clenching his _fist_ , and glaring.

“Otabek.” Coach nods. “I’m here for Yuri. He’s coming with me to Toronto and I want his paperwork.”

“Is that so?” Otabek puts his glasses in his front pocket and narrows his eyes. “And why would you do that?”

He doesn’t hesitate to answer. “Because I love him. And he loves me.”

Yuri can’t believe it. He stares at a moth flitting dangerously close to Otabek’s iridescent bug zapper. Coach didn’t steal him away. He came and he told Otabek — like a man. His heart, it feels like it’s going to explode out of his chest.

“I see.” Otabek nods. He turns and — oh no! He’s pulling back his fist!

Yuri screams and he jumps in front of Coach. “Please don’t!”

Otabek’s fist stops right in front of Yuri’s face. “Move out of my way, Yuri. Leroy, you got it coming! You’re a teacher, for Christ’s sake! _His teacher!_ ”

“No!” Yuri screams again. “I love him! And if you care, if you give one fuck about me you won’t hurt him!”

Otabek pauses and for a second Yuri thinks he’s cool. But it’s just a second. He punches Coach right in the face and yanks Yuri back inside. “I’m going to call the cops if you don’t get in your fucking car and leave right now, Leroy! You hear me!”

“Wait for me, Yuri! I’ll come back for you!” Coach is hollering as the door slams shut.

Yuri falls to the floor when he hears the wheels screeching. He hides his face in his hands and sobs. Otabek sits down next to him and puts his arm around his shoulders.

“Everything is going to be okay. I promise.”

++

It’s 1991 and Yuri is graduating with his class at the Trinity Mother Frances Rose Stadium. He can see Otabek when he looks to the right and squints hard enough. And he knows Otabek is proud of him. Yuri managed to pass with a 3.2 and vocational certification in clerical.

When Yuri takes the walk and shakes Principal Rodriguez’s hand, he knows Otabek is on his feet, surprising everyone with the loud _Davai!_ that’s echoing across the field.

Yuri holds his diploma up.

Someone else is there, too. He’s been with Yuri the whole time: in letters Yuri had to pull from the mailbox before Otabek got home; in phone calls Yuri carefully placed with the calling card he was sent; he’s in his dreams, late at night; he’s around his neck. He’s in his heart. And he will always be there.

And he will come for Yuri. He promised him he would.

“Ready to celebrate at Mamasita’s?” Otabek asks when it’s all over and they’re walking away from the football field, covered with streamers and memories. “It’s not every day a young man graduates from school. I might even let you have a sip of my beer.”

“Careful, Yuri. Sounds like a bad influence.”

Yuri stops. He knows that voice. And when he looks up, he sees the face he’s missed for two years. God, he came. He really came. Yuri knew he would - but he came to his graduation! He can’t believe he’s really seeing Coach - in a suit and tie? - and he’s the best thing Yuri’s ever seen in his entire life.

“Jean.” Otabek stops dead in his tracks.

“Otabek.” Coach nods. “Hope you don’t mind if I keep my distance? Hell of a punch for a short guy.”

Yuri turns to Otabek, trying to remember the speech about living his own life and how he’s going to call and definitely visit. And he tries, but nothing comes out.

“I waited,” says Coach. “I’d wait two thousand years if I had to.”

Yuri thinks he’s going to break down and cry right here. “Otabek? Say you’re not mad?”

Otabek just rolls his eyes. Then he opens his arms. “One last hug.”

Yuri’s eyes tear up. “Hell no.” He laughs when Otabek wraps his arms around him. “You haven’t heard the last of me.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” He squeezes one last time before he lets him go. “Call me when you get there. And if this doesn’t work out-“

Yuri nods. “Yes, Dad.” He’s halfway joking when he says it. Otabek’s always going to be his father, in his heart.

“Take care of him, Leroy, or I will come up there like your worst nightmare!”

Then he runs to Coach. He wants to fall into his arms. He wants to kiss him again. He stops short, because there are people everywhere. People who’re able to recognize him. People who remember him as that hyper-Christian guy who taught Abstinence Only.

Yuri stares into his deep blue eyes. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Coach tilts his head and he’s so beautiful. “I'd wait until the end of time for a moment like this.” And then he takes Yuri’s hand. He pulls Yuri in his arms. And he kisses him.

Right there, in a sea of people who know who he is.

He kisses him, deep and full on the lips until Yuri’s heart thunders in his ears. “Good boy,” he whispers.

They ride north on 1-35 that night in Coach’s red Mustang. He’s got Ontario plates now. “You’ll love it up there.”

Yuri smiles as he watches the moon rise over the highway. “I can’t wait.”


End file.
